


Cultural Exchange

by Heronfem



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Being Official, Cultural exchange, Love Bites, M/M, Massage, Morning Sex, Satinalia, slight possessive kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-15 00:02:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4585254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heronfem/pseuds/Heronfem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Iron Bull enjoys the multicultural celebration during Satinalia at Skyhold.  Dorian enjoys the morning after just as much, if not more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cultural Exchange

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SerahSerah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerahSerah/gifts).



The Iron Bull had never devoted much attention to the varying holidays of the Andrastian faith. Oh, certainly there were plenty of celebrations throughout the year in roughly the same time as the turning of the seasons and the year, but he didn't need to know names or reasons, really. He picked up the names as they approached, the reason on the day of, and made memos of who had made idiots of themselves during said day or evening. 

He was currently rethinking his approach to this.

Dorian Pavus, resident Tevene mage, current occupier of The Iron Bull's bed, inventor of time magic, heir apparent to the lands of Asariel and a seat on the Magisterium, was wearing what had to be the most ridiculous, sparkly costume Bull had ever seen in his life. And he'd spent time in the Orlesian court.

It was, well, _sparkly_ , mostly.The fabric was draped so no matter what he was doing, it seemed like he was moving. Huge, floating dark blue pants, gold on his belt, a tight fit light green shirt with huge sleeves that had been stripped so they floated around him however he tried to keep them still, and the headdress made quite a picture. The headdress itself was topped in massive amounts of peacock feathers, and his face had been painted up so that the eyes were distinctively lined in white and black, just like a peacock. 

Dorian stalked over, scowling. There were already plenty of festivities going on in Skyhold proper, most people in traditional wear from around Thedas (notably Cullen in a kilt, Cassandra in a long red dress with an elaborate embroidered vest and strange, swooped hat, and Josephine in gold, feathers, and not much else. _Antivans_ )but Dorian definitely stood out in the crowd of revellers.

“Kadan,” Bull said, doing his best to keep his face straight as he leaned against the wall, “not that I don't love you dearly, but what the fuck is this?”

“Traditional Alti Satinalia attire,” Krem said, sauntering up and grinning like the cat that had caught the canary. “Specifically the set worn by House Pavus. Note the peacock colors and feathers, as per the house symbol and meaning. Also worn for those rare, wonderful occassions when they don't have robes suitable for the celebrations.”

“The other choice is Chantry robes and a vow of chastity to be socially appropriate, so feathers it is. At least I'm in good company,” he said, pointing as a row of Antivans danced past. Dorian, at least, was wearing clothing. Bull was pretty sure those were just repurposed small clothes with gems stitched on.

“And why aren't you in this get up?” he asked Krem, who grinned.

“I'm Soporati. _My_ Satinalia clothes consist of bright saffron dresses or suits with flames embroidered on. The Soporati get to show off in color, the Liberati wear a really nice blue, slaves either get sky blue or grey. And the Archon wears bright red, to properly symbolize his mourning of Andraste while the festivities carry on. The Black Divine wears black. Shocking, I know.”

“You people have strange rules about clothes, you know?” Bull said dryly.

“Tell me about it,” Dorian muttered, huffing as one of the peacock feathers on his headdress tried to fall in his eyes. “So, Bull, shall we dance?”

“Excuse me?”

Krem grinned as Dorian straightened up, the gauzy fake sleeves showing bronze skin as one side slipped down his shoulder. “Satinalia's the one time of year you can dance with whoever you want, and no one can say a damn thing. So go dance, before anyone can get mad about the scandal.”

Bull looked back at Dorian, who was watching him with a slightly desperate determination now, and felt his heart swell when Dorian said, firmly, “I don't care who sees. And after tonight, I don't care who knows.”

“Yeah?” he said, reaching over to take Dorian's hand.

“Yes.” And to his surprise, Dorian bent down and kissed the back of it. “Come, _amatus_. I'd like to get at least one dance in before they drag me off to join that Antivan conga line.”

Bull laughed, spinning him to make the gauzy dress pants and shirt float, and grabbed his hand other hand before they descended into the whirl of music and light. It was an easy dance, a circle dance, and they slipped in without trouble next to Cadash and Varric, the former in full dress armor and the latter in eye watering orange and turquoise. Fereldans danced with Orlesians, the Antivans somehow dragged Cassandra into their dance line, Cullen and Grand Enchanter Fiona had paired up for some complicated looking jig that had half the mages and most of the templars whooping. They swirled in the midst of it all, and Dorian laughed when Bull easily tossed him in the air for a lift, moving quickly into a neat spin and dip so he could kiss him with that smile still on his lips.

He could get used to Satinalia.

oOo

“I want to braid your hair.”

Dorian cracked an eye open, barely willing to consider it time to do anything other than be asleep. Outside, the sun was creaking along towards noon, the time when he much more preferred to wake up. He was forced into wakefulness too damn early while they were out jaunting about with Cadash, he wasn't about to give up his lazing so easily.

“What?” he managed, groping for a pillow to cover his head. Bull's lips descended to kiss lazily over his back, sucking little bites against his skin. Oh. Hmm. He could maybe be awake for that. He let his hand drop on the pillow.

“Your hair. I want to braid it for you.”

“S'not long enough,” he mumbled, squirming as Bull straddled him, the weight on his hips keeping him pinned firmly to the bed. He sighed contentedly, and let Bull continue to run his fingers possessively over his sides and back, and eventually up to push his hands together so he could hold the wrists in a tight, but comfortable grip. “ _Caro mio_ , what are you doing?”

Teeth sunk into his neck around his spine, and he went deliciously limp. Some little part of him, that annoying little scientist that never quite went to sleep, muttered something about prey responses and submission. He squashed it, focusing instead on the wonderful feeling of being so utterly, deliciously _owned_.

“Hush, sweetling,” Bull murmured, kissing the marks he'd left tenderly, and Dorian relaxed once again. He was in good hands. 

A piece from the now very shredded costume of the night lay on the pillow, and Dorian smiled dreamily at it as Bull bit kisses against his skin. He was half hard at this point, or as much as he could be while pinned down so well, and Bull was hot against his back, breath steaming across his skin as a long nose traced absent designs, following the teeth and the mouth and the slick, soothing tongue that had Dorian wanting nothing more than to rut into the bedsheets.

Bull crooned absent nonsense in a plethora of languages when they were in bed- Qunlat, Orlesian, Trade, even some Antivan or Tevene he'd picked up somewhere. All of it sweet, all of it warm, all tender, kind things that had Dorian breathing sweet nothings right back to him. 

Bull's hips shifted, and Dorian groaned in pleasure when Bull plucked the scented oil from the bedside table, the scent of sandalwood filling the air as he began massaging Dorian's back, talented hands soothing leftover aches from the muscles and leaving the bites still stinging behind. Dorian's hands, now freed, stayed exactly where Bull had left them. His hips twitched as best they could against the sheets, and when he was properly loose and boneless, Bull rolled him over and lowered his head to kiss and nose at his hips, biting them and marking them up as well.

Sex and sandalwood hung in the air, sweet morning perfume, and when Bull mouthed the head into his mouth to lap at the leaking slit, he sighed in his pleasure.

It was impossible to wind his muscles back up, so he simply laid there, still and quiet, and let Bull take his fill. When he came, it was with no great fanfare- just a hitch of breath, a soft sigh of relief as the hand on his wrists tightened down. Bull kissed him after, and Dorian's jaw was too loose to kiss back properly, but he could taste himself on Bull's tongue, sharp salt almost appealing.

Bull rubbed himself off with the divot of his hips, the two of them breathing in each others air, whispering helpless, fond little nothings back to each other, lips brushing in a parody of kissing. Outside, the world was quiet. The day of reflection, after Satinalia's revels. Dorian would soon dress in his most somber clothes, and go to the Chantry to reflect on the past year and what he could do to improve himself in the coming one.

He was fairly certain that letting himself enjoy mornings like this one was going to be somewhere on that list.

Bull came hot on his stomach, and Dorian lifted his head the tiniest bit, a delicate little nudge to get him to kiss him. He moaned softly into it, his whole body warm and loose with sated desire and the knowledge that he wasn't alone.

“Morning,” Bull whispered against his lips.

“Morning, amatus,” he whispered back, smiling when Bull caught him in another kiss before moving back down to lick his stomach clean. His head felt heavy on the pillow, and he murmured a little sound of pleasure when sharp teeth nipped at the more tender skin of his stomach.

When Bull was satisfied with his work he sat up and let Dorian's wrists go, smiling at him in a self satisfied sort of way. Dorian couldn't even be annoyed.

“ _Caro_ ,” he crooned, and Bull's smile widened as he leaned back down, bracketing Dorian with his arms to kiss up and over his neck and jaw before returning to his mouth.

“ _Ataash kadan_ ,” Bull breathed against his lips. _My glorious heart_. 

Dorian smiled, and Bull rolled off him to go and find pants. “So,” Dorian said, yawning a little as he tried to decide if it was worth the effort to lower his arms from where they so comfortably lay. “Why do you want to braid my hair?”

Bull chuckled, fetching a different eye patch and a less offensive pair of pants than normal. These were a dark, rich navy with leather plating on the sides. “It's a Qunari thing. I don't exactly have very much of it, but normally people spend time with each other unwinding, and fixing their closest friends braids. And we're a good deal more than friends, hence why I want to braid your hair. Culture.”

“Well,” Dorian drawled, deciding that he couldn't be bothered to move, “seeing as you did get to experience a piece of my culture last night, that seems only fair. Perhaps I should grow out a piece like Leliana has, so I can always have a strand done.”

Bull turned, buckling his harness on. “I like it,” he said, smiling. “I bet I could manage with what you've got now. If I did it very, very small. Perhaps three of them, or just a little braid down the line where you fluff it up.”

“We'll have to experiment,” Dorian mused. “Oh, look, I can move my feet again.” His toes twitched weakly. “I feel utterly boneless. It's wonderful. _You_ , my love, are wonderful.”

Bull leaned down to kiss him again. “You know,” he murmured, stealing more kisses, “that's the first time- you've called me love- in Trade?”

“Really?” Dorian gently nipped at his lip. “Well, shout it from the rooftops.”

Bull moved back just a bit. “You're sure?” he asked, somberly.

“I'm sure,” he nodded. “I'm done hiding. I've had enough. You are mine, and I am yours, and that is to be the end of it. And if anyone says anything about it, I shall light them on fire.”

“Of course, _ataashi_.”

Dorian nodded imperiously, and reluctantly lifted his arms to grab Bull's horns and pull him down for one more kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm slow, I know, but ta-da!
> 
> Also, please just picture Josephine in Carnival gear. Likely to happen, no. Am I thrilled with the idea, absolutely.


End file.
